


A Day in the Life of.........

by keirajo



Series: The Decepticon Emperor and His Autobot Lover [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drama, Fluff, Humor, Love, M/M, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: A collection of very short stories set in the G1S3 universe as formulated by my limited series "The Emperor and the Prime".  This work in particular has short chapters of a day in the life of the individual characters of that universe over the course of the four years since Galvatron and Rodimus Prime became lovers.





	1. Galvatron

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has Galvatron returning to Chaar to find Rodimus Prime has a surprise waiting for him, at a time about a year after their sparkling, Novablaze, was born.

**_ A Day in the Life of…. _ **

 

 

_Chapter One: **Galvatron**_

 

            “ _Priiiiiiiiiiiime_!!!”  Galvatron roared, stomping through his throne room towards his berthroom.   “What in the Pit is going on?!   They are _destroying_ my precious berth!!”  The Emperor of the Decepticons said in an angry voice, that was definitely some kind of pouting going on with it.

            He’d seen Scavenger and Scrapper with the gaudy old berth outside, near the incinerator pits, chopping it into pieces to burn it.   All those horrid cherubs and imps were finally meeting an ending they should have had ages ago.

            Then the Decepticon Leader stopped instantly, when he heard the sounds of something going on in his berthroom and his fury began to rise.

            “ ** _Prime!_**    What are they doing to **_my berthroom_**?!”  He snarled, reaching for the collar fairing of the young, flame-colored Prime.

            “Chill out, Galvatron,” Rodimus Prime chuckled, warmly, gazing into his lover’s red optics.   “Look……..I didn’t expect you to get back so soon—you’ve been gone for three days now.  I figured I had the time to prepare this surprise for you.”

            “ _Surprise_?  I **_do not_** like surprises that result in the destruction of **_my belongings_**!!”  Galvatron snapped as the young Prime moved closer to him and draped his arms around the Decepticon Leader’s neck.  His gaze was utterly focused on the door of his berthroom, where he could hear various sounds of banging and clanking and other sounds of destruction.

            “But my lord………..I am _only_ trying to make this building more worthy of your status as an Emperor,” Rodimus purred, swiping his glossa over Galvatron’s lips and trying to distract him from the sounds going on in the berthroom.

            “I have _no time_ to dally with you, Prime………..I _must_ put an end to whatever madness is going on in my berthroom!”  Galvatron growled.  The fact that he was addressing Rodimus Prime with simply “ _Prime_ ” and not “ ** _my Prime_** ” showed he was really upset about what was going on.   The Leader of the Decepticons placed his servos on the flame-colored mech’s shoulders and tried pushing his rival and lover away.   “ _Why_ are you here on Chaar—why are you not taking care of our spawn right now?”  He suddenly said, slamming Rodimus into the nearby wall.

            “A bit of leave, First Aid told me I needed to get away for a little while and Nova’s a bit more independent now—he can be left with a babysitter,” Rodimus answered, smiling winningly at Galvatron.  “Are you saying you’re _not_ happy to see me, my lord?  That disappoints me!”   While speaking with Galvatron, he sent a glyph message to the Constructicons inside the berthroom.

            **|Mixmaster.  I think I can only keep him occupied for another hour.  Speed things up!|**

**|Understood, Prime.|**

            Galvatron was suddenly getting concerned, far more than he was actually annoyed………… _disappointing his Prime_?  He would **_never_** do such a thing!

            “Look, Galvatron……..it’s gonna be amazing, you’ll _love_ it.  I’ve got you a new berth that’s _way better_ than the one you had—and it’s in colors more suitable for an Emperor,” Rodimus Prime said with a huge grin as Galvatron’s attention finally focused on him.   “ _Silver and royal purple_.”

            “Not gold?”  Galvatron asked, definitely pouting.

            “Gold is _gaudy_ and not truly representative of royalty, no matter what anyone says—silver is much more eye-catching and goes better with royal purple,” Rodimus answered with a chuckle.   “They are _your_ colors, my lord………your armour and your derma—silver and royal purple.”

            Galvatron stopped as those words sank in.  Of course, he _always_ knew his colors were **_perfection_** —but with the way Rodimus said it, they were the very best colors for an Emperor.   Now, whatever his Prime was doing to his berthroom……….it would suit his perfect colors.   And………..imagining the flame-colored mech on rich, violet berthsheets beneath him made his engine upshift with need and longing.

            “How much longer will they be destroying my room?”  Galvatron added, a slight pout in his voice as he looked once more towards the door to his berthroom.

            “Mixmaster and the others are experts, about another hour.  I know what we can do until then, my lord…………” Rodimus Prime chuckled, lifting a servo to swipe lightly along his violent lover’s jawline.  “ _Sublimate me_ ………take my program and make me **_beg_** for what you will do to me in your brand-new perfect berth………” the young Prime purred, brushing lips over Galvatron’s.

            “ _Tch_.  All I would have to do is ram a few fingers into you, to make you beg for _that_ …………..” Galvatron muttered, darkly.

            “But would it not be more satisfying to prevent me from overloading by playing with my program?” Rodimus teased, swiping his glossa over Galvatron’s lips again.

            Galvatron indulged in the kiss this time, grabbing the back of his Prime’s neck and pulling his head back to expose the neck-cabling.  Then he bit and licked at his young Prime’s neck-cabling, his arousal rising as he thought about an hour of foreplay and then breaking in a brand-new berth that would supposedly be amazing.   He _did_ enjoy his foreplay……………

            “ _Ahhhhhh_ …….yes, my lord……… ** _yes_**!” Rodimus gasped, static popping in his vocalizer as his engines began revving harder.   His hip-panels opened, revealing his data-port connectors.  Galvatron smiled as he took his cords and plugged into the input slots hard.  “ ** _Ooooh_** _…………mmmmm_!”  The flame-colored mech moaned, body arching against his lover’s.

            Galvatron pushed Rodimus Prime into the wall hard, leaving cracks in the paneling.   He grabbed the points of the young Prime’s sunbright yellow spoiler and pinned his Autobot lover into the wall, his heavy and massive frame was a weight that the Autobot Leader was craving desperately.   Rodimus reached up his servos and grabbed two of the points of Galvatron’s crowned helm, pulling his lover’s head into his bleeding neck-cables, begging for more.

            Rodimus Prime’s program ghost was giving Galvatron’s program ghost a good chase today, through the familiar depths of the young Autobot’s systems.   The teasing of the system ghosts were distracting the Decepticon Leader from the pounding in the luxurious berthroom.   It was _beyond arousing_ , it was **_dizzying_** —the chase was as good as any physical chase the young Prime ever led him on.   Galvatron lost all sense of time, as he buried himself in his young Prime’s sensual needs and desires.

            “ _Wow_.  Even **_before_** you’re in the berth,” Swindle remarked, walking past the two leaders for the third time with more blankets in his arms.

            This time, the two _actually_ noticed him, as they were coming down from the data-interfacing high.

            “Oh, is it done, then?”  Rodimus laughed, checking his HUD and saw the message from Mixmaster.   “Oh, by the Allspark— _those look amazing_!  Swindle, you are _fantastic_!”  The Autobot Leader gushed as he reached down to unplug Galvatron from his data-ports.  “Were they too expensive?”  He asked, pushing a bit on Galvatron—to stir his lover from the data-interface high.

            “Hell no, Prime—I _told_ you I’d get a good deal for you.  Even bought some extra pillows with the money I’d saved from what you gave me,” Swindle laughed.  “Though are you sure you two have more stamina to break in the berth now?”  The Combaticon teased.

            “ ** _I_** can still go for it,” Rodimus Prime laughed.  “My lord?  Your berthroom is ready for you to see,” he said, softly, reaching up to stroke the side of Galvatron’s face.

            “Ah, _yes_ ………of course.  Let us see what it is you planned to surprise me with,” the Decepticon Leader murmured, shaking off his daze from the data-interfacing.   He was in a _much_ calmer mood now.

            Galvatron stepped into his berthroom and saw a couple of Constructicons sweeping up the remnants of their makeover.  It was…………really rather impressive.  The walls had been resurfaced and repainted, a rich, cool grey stucco, with some dark violet runners around the floorboards of the room.  The floor had been carpeted with a thick and plush dark grey carpet, which had sprinkles of purple throughout the fibers.  Likely the carpet would suffer soon enough, but the softness was something Galvatron truly appreciated on his worn pedes.

            He had not realized he was actually a little worn out and tired after spending three practically non-stop days driving the foolish Trylians out of the system.  They had systematically been attacking the other planets in Chaar’s system, including the second one where the Autobots had helped install the energy conversion platform.   Galvatron supposed even war machines like himself would get a little tired at some point, but that was why he always returned to Chaar, for proper refueling and rest.

            The new berth was _larger_ than his old one, but still had the four pillars, which were silver, around it—however, now the canopy on top of it had curtains that ran along all the sides of the berth.   It was all a deep, rich violet with some silver embroidery.  On one side, the curtains were pulled aside to show the mass of plush pillows and layers of about six thick blankets—as per Galvatron’s favor for his personal berth.

            Then, very suddenly and with no warning whatsoever, Galvatron grabbed Rodimus Prime and threw him into the berth.   As he suspected, the bright colors of flame were perfect against the deep purples and eye-catching silvers.

            “Open for me, my Prime………….let me _reward you_ for this fine gift you gave me,” Galvatron said, his voice deep and full of desire.   “The rest of you may go now.  Your hard work has been appreciated,” he snapped, not even looking at Swindle of the Constructicons.   Every moment of his focus was on the flame-colored Prime in his berth—who had just opened his panels and began playing with himself with a wild grin on his faceplate.

            “Did he just………… _kind of_ ………….thank us?”  Long Haul murmured, looking at his fellow Decepticons in surprise.

            “The Prime is a nice influence,” Swindle chuckled, low enough so that Galvatron wouldn’t hear him at all………just the Constructicons heard him as he hustled them out of the room.

            “Ah, my Prime—you are _right_.  I truly **_do_** appreciate what you have done with my berthroom,” Galvatron purred, sensually, walking over to the berth and eyeing Rodimus’ right servo lightly flicking and rubbing the swollen red-glowing anterior node  playfully.   “The curtains are a surprise and yet…………an _absolutely perfect_ touch,” he added, climbing on the berth and reaching behind him to swipe those curtains shut.  “A soft light up here?”  He asked, noting that it did not plunge them all into darkness the moment he brought the curtains shut—and he saw the pale light along the headboard side of the canopy.

            “I tried to think of everything that would please my Emperor………..and then my lover would please me in return,” Rodimus Prime purred, sliding fingers into his valve as he eagerly waited for Galvatron to do something more to him than just frag him with his optics.   “It can be switched off by swiping against it.  Pretty easy,” he added, grinning up at his beloved Decepticon Leader.

            “Well, then…………are you ready to be fragged _all night long_ , my Prime?” Galvatron chortled, leaning over the flame-colored mech and opening his spike panel.

            “I thought you’d _never_ ask, my lord,” Rodimus purred, pulling his damp fingers out of his servo and reached over to brush them along the length of the thick, black spike.   “ _Frag me senseless until dawn_ ………” he begged softly, more lubricant pooling between his legs just before the spike slammed hard up into him—the first of many such interfacing moments this night.


	2. Rodimus Prime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus talks with a Galactic Alliance representative about a future potential thing..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the time Rodimus was carrying. This was something I'd wanted to put in the main story, which is the reason that an embassy was actually being built on Chaar.

_Chapter Two: **Rodimus Prime**_

 

            Every so often, he really _did_ have to do paperwork, though.   Rodimus Prime _didn’t_ enjoy paperwork, but as time passed—he began to _appreciate_ it more.  Especially with his frame getting heavier with the newmech growing within him.  Bonecrusher and Hook had conferred with First Aid on his most recent visit to Chaar and they’d carved off the lower portion of his chest armour, right below the Autobot brand and all around his frame.  It was weird to see his mid-frame completely exposed like this, his orange derma sensitive to all touch, too.

            But………… ** _hell_** …………..he really _was_ getting bigger there.

            He remembered Galvatron staring at him, as soon as the portion of his chest armour had been removed.   Anxiety overwhelmed him, because he couldn’t make out what was going on in Galavtron’s head with the staring.   But it didn’t take long for the Decepticon Leader to recover from whatever he was thinking and he’d just laid a possessive hand over the bulging area around and above the waist and growled to Rodimus Prime one single word:  “ _Mine_.”

            Like there was _ever_ any doubt about that.   But still, it gave Rodimus fond memories and those were things he treasured.   Galvatron could often be the Spawn of the Pit, but he had his moments and Rodimus loved those.   _Hell, though_ ………..as soon as Galvatron had touched the sensitive derma—his creation protocols went wild and he started whining for a good fragging right then and there, room full of Decepticons and all.

            _That_ was probably the hardest part to deal with for this whole carrying thing.  _The mood swings_.  Rodimus had always been something of an emotional hurricane, but now he was probably a _Category 10 emotional hurricane_.   It drove poor Ultra Magnus crazy—the Second-in-Command of the Autobots had no idea how to console a wailing young leader, who would suddenly go into a round of purging and then declare himself happy that he’d finally “ _let it all out_ ”…….all within a span of ten minutes or less!

            The curiosity and novelty had almost driven Rodimus Prime crazy when he’d come back from the Leadership Conference, but now that they’d (the Autobots, the intergalactic media outlets, the Earth humans……..) all had the months to process it and watch Rodimus go through the stages of carrying, it all seemed to settle into a routine.  Though sometimes he’d catch Autobots staring at him from around a corner—as if he’d become some kind of weird monster that they weren’t sure whether to avoid or confront.   But First Aid was the only one as excited as Rodimus Prime was about this—actually, First Aid was _more excited_ than Rodimus about it!

            “Rodimus, Representative Ganix is here,” Ultra Magnus announced, standing in the doorway.

            “Oh, good.  I needed a break from this.  I swear the glyphs keep changing while I’m reading it,” Rodimus laughed.

            “Impossible,” Ultra Magnus said, drolly.  “But please get it done _soon_ , Rodimus.  I need to allocate a budget for that project,” he added, stepping aside for the Tournian representative for the Galactic Council.

            Ganix was of an organic species, with a body not unlike the Earth humans, except for the pale blue skin, long and drooping ears, and a third eye in the center of the forehead.  The Tournian species had a special skill of learning languages (written or oral) instantly, so a lot of them had been hired by Galactic Council members as aides or even council representatives to other worlds.

            “I’ve gotten to practice my Cybertronian _finally_.  It’s amusing to see the Autobots stare at me when I speak to them in their own language!”  Ganix chuckled as Rodimus got up from his seat and offered assistance up into the guest chair.  “My………..you are looking well-along in your carrying.  How much longer do you have to go?”

            “If First Aid read Raj-ur-Malekk’s journal right, I should have about four months left,” Rodimus answered, going back to his seat and leaning over the desk so he could still see Ganix in the chair meant for Cybertronians.   “I’m about ready to say _‘any time now’_ , though—and so is Ultra Magnus!”  The young Prime laughed.

            “That sounds about right for any pregnant being I’ve ever met,” Ganix chuckled warmly.  “So, you had a special question to ask the council—what is it?”

            “It’s……….look, I know this is nowhere near ready to even be considered.  But one day I’d like to have the Decepticons join the Galactic Alliance, as well,” Rodimus explained, quietly.  “But I know sovereign worlds have different rules for their membership in the alliance……..and when he’s done with his _‘expanding’_ of his _‘empire’_ , it would be a sovereignty.  Galvatron has no interest in it yet, but……..one day, I think I may get him to consider it.  The benefits and all that.”

            “Are you certain you’re not just imposing your desires on the one you’re in love with?”  Ganix asked, seriously.

            “That’s what Ultra Magnus said, too, but………the Decepticons are not the same as they were under Megatron.  Galvatron sees things as different—to him the Decepticons are an independent species and culture.  While some Decepticons wish to come back to Cybertron, Galvatron has no vested interest in taking the planet from us.  It’s not like he wants it to be easy, he just doesn’t think this planet is worth it anymore,” Rodimus Prime explained, signing deeply and leaning back in his chair.  “I think Unicron took away his _‘sense of home’_ —Chaar is the first planet he really has any memory of, so that’s why he’s attached to Chaar.”

            “Like a hatchling.  Attaches to the first thing they see,” Ganix responded.

            “Yeah, like that.   That’s why I’m also trying to help the Decepticons make Chaar more of a home, too.   If Galvatron’s attached to it and they’re not going to leave him—then they deserve a place to live.  Because most of them remember nothing but the war………but if there’s no war, they shouldn’t have to be poor and destitute,” the young Prime added, nodding.

            “You’re far too nice, Rodimus Prime—no wonder Ultra Magnus worries about you so much,” Ganix said with a warm smile, his ears rippling with kindness.

            “ _Everybody_ worries about me.  Fragging a Decepticon and all that.  They worry I’m gonna compromise everything the Autobots are for Galvatron,” Rodimus sighed, laying his head down on his desk.  “But it’s **_not_** like that.  I know what the lines are.  I know what I can do on each side of the line and not to cross it willy-nilly and hurt everyone in the process.”  Then Rodimus sat back up and looked over at Representative Ganix.  “I _know_ how to separate my personal wants with Galvatron and how to make sure the Autobots are getting my best as their leader.  _Galvatron_ has shown me how to lead and how to have more confidence in my leadership skills—because he wants me to be his _perfect rival_ , not just his berthmate.”

            “I think you’ve done well in choosing Galvatron, then,” Ganix responded.  “I don’t think love is ever easy—whether you plan it or it comes in like a storm and causes chaos before it settles in.”

            “Yeah, I think so, too.  And I have the one thing that proves Galvatron treasures me more than anything else, even if he doesn’t understand the concept of love.  I have _our sparkling_ growing inside of me,” Rodimus said, fondly, rubbing his bulging midsection.


	3. Novablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Novablaze's first tantrum..........he really is Galvatron's spawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fuzzy Fiesta" is the one and only thing that can calm Nova down. *chuckle*

_Chapter Three: **Novablaze**_

 

            It was a _nice day_.   Almost everyone in Metroplex had gone outside to go and do things _outside_ , where the weather was an absolutely perfect day.   Except for Rodimus Prime, he was staying indoors with his little sparkling.  With everyone outside, it was pretty quiet inside of Metroplex.   So, the Autobot Leader was with his little one in the entertainment lounge area inside of Metroplex. 

            Rodimus Prime was curled up on the massive lounger with a reader tablet while Novablaze was sitting on the floor right in front of him, playing with a set of blocks.   The sparkling was only about ten months old now and he’d been a very good little newmech, for the most part.  Virtually no tantrums had ever occurred so far and the only crying had been when the little one was hungry or upset about something, like a bad dream during recharge.

            The blocks had been _Spike’s_ idea.  He said that building blocks like that were a standard staple of Earth children—they usually had numbers and alphabet and maybe some cute animal pictures on them.  It introduced children to the alphabet and numbers and let them build simple things with the blocks.   These blocks were specially made by the Constructicons—they had the glyphs of Cybertron’s common alphabet on them, with a set of numbers and then simple pictures of various animals from the galaxy and Earth on them.  

            Novablaze still had no interest in the glyphs or the numbers, but _liked_ the pictures of the _animals_ , so whenever he’d build with the blocks, he made sure all the animal pictures faced him.   Right now, he was building a pyramid with them.   And the sparkling was utterly happy, chittering and purring with delight.

            Until **_that_** happened.

            One of the blocks was loose on the foundation and all of the sudden the whole pyramid came crashing down.   Rodimus heard the tumbling of the blocks and looked down at Novablaze and saw an expression on the sparkling’s faceplate that he’d _never_ seen before.   At that moment—Novablaze _totally_ resembled Galvatron and the tantrum that erupted was worthy of the Decepticon Leader as well.

            The wailing was at such a high pitch that it sent pain through Rodimus’ audials instantly.  The young Prime hopped off the couch and bent down to pick up his crying sparkling, but Novablaze would not be consoled.   He rocked on his pedes and cooed at the little one, to try and calm the tantrum.

            “Oh man…….oh man, _what now_?”  Rodimus mumbled.  “Nova, it’s okay………..you can build an even better thing with the blocks, let me help…….” the flame-colored mech said, kneeling down and taking a few blocks and constructing a small pillar with them. 

            But Novablaze just _would not_ be consoled.   The sparkling wailed and whined and hit Rodimus’ arm and shoulder with his tiny fists.

            Easing Galvatron’s tantrums was easy—just referring to him as “ _my Emperor_ ” with a sexy little purr in the vocalizer and then tempting him into a fragging always worked.  However, not a single thing of _that particular solution_ would work for a sparkling.

            Rodimus sat down on the lounger and rubbed at Novablaze’s tiny back, yet the wailing just kept continuing.   The tiny little fists kept pounding on Rodimus shoulder, plus kicking had begun with the pedes.

            Rodimus, exasperated, grabbed for the television remote and thought he’d go and look for something—like a music channel that played lullabyes.   He kept flipping through the stations and came across something with cutesy music that immediately grabbed the wailing sparkling’s attention.

            Novablaze turned in his carrier’s arms to look at the screen, his sobs tapering off slowly, static popping in his young vocalizer.   The animals on the screen barely resembled _animals_ —they were like round little balls that had ears and tails resembling the animals they were supposed to be.  Plus they had super-huge animation-shimmering eyes.   They were singing a cute little song about counting……. _which looked like they were counting fruits and eating them?_........and Novablaze’s optics were glued intently to the screen. 

            “Seriously?   What is with the Japanese and the big eyes?”  Rodimus mumbled.  “You like this stuff, kiddo?”  He asked, gazing down at Novablaze.

            The sparkling turned his head up to look at his carrier for a minute, then made grabby hands at the television screen, a gesture that meant “ _more_ ”.

            “All right then, if that’s what floats your boat,” Rodimus laughed.  He turned up the volume and hoped that this show—whatever it was—happened to be on for a little while to keep Novablaze entertained and not fall back into another tantrum.


	4. Ultra Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ultra Magnus has had to put up with an emotional hurricane with his young new leader, but that's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably with Optimus Prime back now, though, Ultra Magnus won't have epic shocks like this anymore. XD

_Chapter Four: **Ultra Magnus**_

 

            The Second-in-Command of the Autobots had been pulled into a cyclone of epic proportions from the moment Unicron was destroyed and he found himself assisting a new Autobot Leader.  Even harder to believe………that new leader was _Hot Rod_ —who had been chosen by the Matrix of Leadership and was reformatted into a larger and sturdier frame, now going by the name of “ _Rodimus Prime_ ”.

            In fact, he hadn’t known what to do about Rodimus Prime.   The younger mech _couldn’t_ sit still, so Ultra Magnus gave him even more paperwork to process than he _ever_ would’ve given Optimus Prime—just to try and get the young Prime to settle down and focus on being a leader.   He scheduled more meetings with leaders of other worlds than he _ever would’ve given_ any Autobot Leader……..and he scheduled more events for Rodimus Prime to host than any Autobot would _ever be given_ —figuring that keeping the flame-colored mech busy would stop him from getting into trouble.

            About two months after he’d become leader, Rodimus said to Ultra Magnus that they were joining the **_Galactic Alliance_** —and once they were settled in, the Autobots would encourage and serve as the patron to the Earth joining the Galactic Alliance.  That was……… _incredibly unexpected_ , a huge political gesture like that!   But the members of the Galactic Alliance council all really liked Rodimus Prime—he was young, a bit naïve at times, but a lot of the ways he looked at things were refreshing and creative to them.

            And about a year after becoming leader came _the huge bomb_ …………Rodimus Prime had become **_intimately involved_** with Galvatron.   Ultra Magnus was absolutely stunned, he had no idea what to think about his young Prime anymore.   He _couldn’t_ really call it a betrayal, because he saw how hard the young mech worked for the Autobots and everything he’d started doing to make the Autobots’ lives better…………it just felt like a bad and overly clichéd movie plot, that he fell in love with “ _the enemy_ ”.   And then the fact that they’d _Spark-bonded_ , as well……..!

            No matter how much work Ultra Magnus gave him—it seemed Rodimus Prime still just as easily got into trouble.   But Rodimus tried his hardest to convince Ultra Magnus that the Decepticons were no longer “ _the enemy_ ”—which was difficult, as Ultra Magnus had been involved in the war for nearly as long as Optimus Prime had been.  Which was, to say, it had been _far too long_ ………and it was hard for an old soldier to look beyond the days of war—and to look at old enemies in a completely different light.

            Galvatron **_wasn’t_** Megatron.   He had _similar ambitions_ —to conquer all he could and rule a grand empire.  But for Galvatron, the things to conquer _weren’t_ Cybertron and Earth, Autobots and the humans……….and that empire wasn’t just where he could get Energon from.   Galvatron’s desire to conquer and build was all really………. _very faerie tale like_.  **_Chaar_** was the center of his empire and he would conquer out from there, until _he_ was satisfied.  _Megatron_ would never have stood for that……….Chaar was desolate and useless, _not fit_ to be the center of anything whatsoever.  It couldn’t even offer _scraps_ of Energon!!   But somehow, Galvatron saw Chaar as his desired home………..and Rodimus Prime empathized, setting out to make Chaar a glorious center of the “ _Decepticon Empire_ ”, as Galvatron saw it.

            “Really, Magnus………where’s the harm in it?  Galvatron’s a bit _weird_ , but that’s okay, you know?   I think part of it is what Unicron did to him—the Chaos Bringer took away everything _‘Cybertronian’_ in those he reformatted……and right now, it’s the hardest on the Decepticons stuck with him, just because he _is their leader_ ,” Rodimus Prime had said to him one day, after they’d started forging the ceasefire accords.   “Those Decepticons don’t have a _‘home’_ anymore and Galvatron wouldn’t understand it if they said anything to him about that……..so, let’s give the Decepticons _a home_.  **_You’d_** want a home, wouldn’t you?”

            Ultra Magnus had to agree with that.   He’d seen what the war had done………the destruction of the Crystal City, the devastation sweeping the planet as the fires of war began to blaze out of control.   Those who _couldn’t_ fight to survive………were often left lying in the gutters until they were dead, one way or another.    The fact that it was **_Rodimus Prime_** who was worried about the fate of the poor Decepticons who were stuck with Galvatron and the desolation on Chaar—it showed that the young Prime was a very empathetic leader.

            Just as Ultra Magnus was wrapping his head around the ceasefire accords and Rodimus Prime helping the Decepticons make a home on the desolate world of Chaar……..then he got slapped with a _new bomb_ dropped on him.   When Rodimus and the Protectobots came home from the Galactic Alliance Leadership Conference, he’d gone straight to his Second-in-Command (with First Aid there to back him up) and said he was “ _sparked up_ ”.

            “ _Excuse me_?   I think you’ll need to explain this one to me, because I _haven’t_ a clue,” Ultra Magnus had sighed, rubbing his temples softly.

            “Uh, yeah………so, it means Galvatron and I created new life together—a _newspark_ is inside of me,” Rodimus had said, shuffling on his pedes nervously.

            “How………..is that even possible?  It’s _not possible_ , is it, First Aid?”  Ultra Magnus had gasped, looking at the Autobots’ CMO.

            “It’s _totally_ possible.  But _only_ those two could pull it off, see here……..” First Aid had said, showing the Second-in-Command Raj-ur-Malekk’s datapad with the origins of the Transformer species, as created by the Quintessons and started rambling his theories.

            **_Oh._**

            But that _wasn’t_ even the end of the surprises that Rodimus had for Ultra Magnus.  Who was still skeptical of the new life growing inside of Rodimus Prime—despite the fact the flame-colored mech’s frame was changing and altering for it.  It seemed that Ultra Magnus really couldn’t wrap his head around this part until it became an actual reality.

            So, when Rodimus Prime bore his new sparkling—the young, flame-colored mech had been on Chaar.  First Aid had called to Cybertron and Earth, to notify everyone that the birth had gone just fine…… _everyone_ was happy and healthy.   Rodimus would be staying on Chaar for about another week and then he’d come back to Cybertron with the newmech, who had been named by Galvatron— ** _Novablaze_**.

            And _today_ was the day Rodimus Prime was supposed to be returning to Cybertron.  So, Ultra Magnus was in a state approaching anxiety………..because he _still_ didn’t know what he was to expect out of this development.  It had _never happened_ in Cybertronian history, so he just didn’t know what to expect. 

            Because everyone knew that Vector Sigma was the one to forge new lives on Cybertron—creating a new Spark from the well deep within it and forging a unique frame to put it in.   All lives that came out of Vector Sigma’s chamber were fully grown and given a set parameter of knowledge and such, even though they were called “ _newmechs_ ”.   But, as Ultra Magnus understood things— _this_ newmech that Galvatron and Rodimus forged together was more or less like………well, like the _human children_ he’d seen when he was on Earth.  Fragile, small, innocent and not knowing the history of Cybertron instantly, as ones who came out of Vector Sigma’s chamber did.

            Ultra Magnus _couldn’t_ wrap his head around this concept, yet.

            “Hey, Magnus!   I’m back!   And _look_ —I’ve got my new chest armour!  The Constructicons were awesome about it!”  Rodimus Prime said cheerfully, coming down the boarding ramp of Sky Lynx.  “I don’t feel half-so-naked anymore!”  He laughed.

            In one servo, he was carrying a kind of basket-like chair-thing.

            “And _this_ is Novablaze,” the young Prime said, grinning as he held up the thing he was carrying.  Tucked inside of the seat-like depression of the strange basket-like object was a small bundle, wrapped in a dark purple blanket.

            All Ultra Magnus could see was a head, really.  A tiny, little Cybertronian-like head.  Pale grey facial derma—just like Rodimus and Galvatron’s.  The tiny helm was purple with little wing-stubs over the audials—the wing-stubs had stripes of sunbright yellow.   The glass coverings over the optics were dark blue and dim—meaning the newmech was probably sleeping, or otherwise offline.

            “He’s really……….. _quite small_ ,” Ultra Magnus said, a bit puzzled.   “He’s _alive_ , right?”  The Second-in-Command asked, his deep voice full of concern.

            Rodimus’ jaw dropped and he stared up at his right hand mech.  “ _Of course he is!_   I mean, really, it was just a flight………..and Sky Lynx went as fast as possible with as little turbulence as he could!”   The young Prime gasped, aghast at the statement.

            “Rodimus Prime!   There is _no such thing_ as turbulence in space!”  Sky Lynx chided, his deep voice rumbling in the shuttle hangar.   “Besides, I am **_always_** a perfect pilot!”

            “My apologies, I’m just………I guess I still was _not really expecting_ the newmech, even after everything,” Ultra Magnus sighed, straightening up.

            Rodimus Prime reached up and lightly rapped his Second-in-Command with his knuckles on the taller mech’s forehead.   “Come on, you’ve had almost a year to get used to this happening!   Where’s my _polite_ , diplomatic second?  Greet Nova more properly!”  Rodimus laughed, warmly.

            There was a little gurgling sound from the newmech in the chair-thing and the optics glowed as he woke up and looked around.  The first thing he saw was his beloved carrier and the sparkling cooed happily, looking up at Rodimus Prime.

            “Yes, you _totally_ know your name, don’t you………Novablaze?”  Rodimus purred happily, leaning into the chair-thing and rubbing his nose against the tiny, little sparkling’s.

            There was more happy purring and cooing from the little newmech.

            Then Rodimus Prime turned the weird basket-thing towards Ultra Magnus.  “Nova, this is Ultra Magnus—you’ll _really_ like him.  He’s _awesome_.   Magnus……..this is Galvatron’s little spawn, Novablaze,” the young Prime introduced.

            “Are you still letting Galvatron call him _‘spawn’_?   It’s highly improper,” Ultra Magnus said with a deep frown.   But he lightly reached a forefinger into the carrying object and brushed the tip against the side of the little sparkling’s faceplate.  “Hello, little Novablaze………..I am the one who has to keep your carrier out of trouble.”   Though it was quite evident he didn’t always succeed at doing so, did he?

            “Galvatron’s _not_ wrong, though—Nova is our _‘spawn’_ , as far as the proper dictionary terms call it,” Rodimus laughed.

            “I suppose, but still………..I hope you can eventually break Galvatron out of that habit and get him to address his sparkling properly,” Ultra Magnus responded.

            “ _Ah-ha-ha_ ……..we’ll see, but I doubt it,” Rodimus chuckled.   “Come on, Magnus………..let’s show the little guy around Cybertron, now that he’s awake!”

            “Yes, let us do that,” the Second-in-Command chuckled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEE.......got my tickets for the one-night only showing of "The Transformers: The Movie" in theaters on September 27th!!! :D


	5. Spike Witwicky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's reaction to Rodimus' carrying nets some fun conversation.

_Chapter Five: **Spike Witwicky**_

 

            A few hours after Galvatron made an excellent sky view in the building, the furor over the Quintesson who threatened the Autobots and Galvatron’s spectacular entrance had died down.   At that point Carly had spoken with Groove and Blades, while Spike went looking for Hotspot—all to find out what had happened. 

            And what they missed by being at a different panel than their Autobot friends!

            “Oh, Rodimus!  I can ask _you_ , then—what happened?”  Spike said, exasperatedly, as he finally encountered the Autobot Leader, staring up into the hole that Galvatron made in the five floors of the building.

            “ _Man_.  Ultra Magnus is gonna **_kill_** me.  This is why I _can’t_ buy nice things,” Rodimus sighed.  It had been an hour or two and he had since gotten cleaned up after Galvatron fragged him into nearly offlining.   “But I’m glad Galvatron came………I’m not sure what I would’ve done if he hadn’t.”

            So, then Rodimus Prime gave a short summary of the Quintesson biologist—Raj-ur-Malekk—and how he had been about to take Rodimus away and dissect him.   And then he had to explain what he understood about this “sparked up” term.

            Spike tried to start speaking several times, sometimes raising a hand and waving it or waggling a finger.   But he still couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say or what he wanted to ask.  Eventually he just came up with………

            “Just when I thought I _couldn’t_ be surprised by _anything else_ you Transformers threw at me,” Spike laughed softly.

            “But……..according to the Quintesson’s journals and what First Aid thinks—only Galvatron and I could do this.  Because Unicron recreated him from Megatron and added back in the original forge and creation protocols in his system…………and the Matrix reformatted my body to work with those same protocols,” Rodimus sighed.

            “So, this brings up a really good question, then—did the Matrix _predict this_?   Because you are the only Autobot Leader that the Matrix has reformatted, right?”  Spike asked, curious at this interesting development.

            “I _know_.  And I’ve tried to ask in the past little while, since I’ve gotten cleaned up.  But…….it’s gone silent on me,” Rodimus Prime murmured.   “The Matrix has _never_ been so silent when I’ve directly asked it a question.”

            Spike looked up through the holes in the floor-ceilings and saw the starry sky up in the distance.   If what he’d just suggested was true—that this was _predestined_ for Rodimus Prime and Galvatron to meet and bond in a manner no other Transformer ever had before, did it mean the ancient object did this in order to bring the war to an end?   Even though he knew that Optimus Prime and Megatron had _respected_ each other—he couldn’t possibly see the war ending with a bonding and a baby for **_those two_**.

            But with Galvatron and Rodimus Prime, _that_ ending didn’t really seem all that impossible now.

            “Maybe the Matrix just doesn’t want to confirm that it _can_ predict the future………because then you might bother it for more and more information, instead of waiting for the future to come on its own?”  Spike proposed, patting Rodimus’ leg and looking up at the young Autobot Leader.

            Rodimus Prime laughed softly.  “You may be right about that, Spike,” he said, smiling down at his human friend.   “It could also be afraid I might ask about a _specific_ future—which it would not want to answer for me,” he added, a strange and sad tone to his voice.

            “There’s _that_ answer, as well,” Spike responded with a soft sigh.  “So, what does Galvatron think about this?  I mean, does he want to take _any_ responsibility for this sparkling or is he just going to be the _‘baby-daddy’_?”

            “I think he’s intrigued as far enough as he did the impossible—as for anything else from him, _that_ may take some time,” Rodimus answered with a big grin and a laugh.   “I think once he sees an actual physical newmech in his arms— _that’s_ when we’ll get our real answer.”

            “What about _you_ , Rodimus?  How do you feel about being _‘sparked up’_?”  Spike asked, seriously.

            “ ** _I_** ………actually, Spike—I’m _really happy_.  Even if something happens in some unknown future…….if at some point I am no longer worthy to be at Galvatron’s side.  I’ll have _something_ — ** _someone_** —to help me remember what I had with Galvatron, everything I cherished,” Rodimus said, a soft smile on his lips.

            “Okay—just to forewarn you, if your pregnancy is gonna be _anything_ like Carly’s……..mood swings, puking, plus strange and weird new habits!  I feel sorry for _everyone_ around you right now, because you’re totally not even going to realize how weird you’re acting!”  Spike laughed, hoping to brighten the mood.

            “ _Ah-ha-ha!_    You’re _probably_ right………I’ll be an _absolute terror_ to everyone around me!”  Rodimus Prime laughed, warmth flooding through his systems.   For now, he had _everything_ —and he needed to cherish it!

            “I _never_ thought my first grandchild would be of the non-human variety,” Spike chuckled, grinning up at the young Prime.

            The two of them laughed with each other for a long time after Spike’s comment was vocalized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter--I've determined this will be 10 chapters, with the final two being post-"Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" chapters, which will lead into the new set of longer word count stories. :)


	6. First Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor First Aid overworks himself pretty spectacularly.

_Chapter Six: **First Aid**_

 

            That Quintesson biologist’s datapad was full of information on the ancient predecessors to the modern types of Cybertronians.   First Aid made sure a dozen copies were made of all the data in the datapad and then hoarded it all to himself.   And to think the young CMO got to witness a miracle firsthand, in his very lifetime!   Between Rodimus Prime’s newly discovered condition and the wealth of data from the Quintessons on their ancestors—the Autobot medic barely got any sleep and drank lots of premium-grade Energon with spiking elements to keep him awake for days at a time. 

            Basically everything he’d tell patients to _never, ever_ do.

            “First Aid, this _isn’t_ like you at all………you need to get to berth and **_right now_** ,” Hot Spot sighed, entering the CMO’s office and walking over to his fellow Protectobot’s desk.   “C’mon, Groove and Blades really miss you…….come to berth, would you?”  The Protectobot commander said, softly, walking around the desk and draping his arms over First Aid’s shoulders.

            “But I can’t…….. _not yet_ ……..all of this information……..” First Aid stammered, his body about to crash from the energy-fuels and lack of proper recharging.

            “It’ll _still_ be here, tomorrow.   And the next day.  And Rodimus will be carrying that newspark inside of him for _nearly a year_.  You’ve got _plenty_ of time,” Hot Spot chided, nuzzling the top of the young medic’s helm.   “You’re setting a _really_ bad example for your patients—so, come to berth and recharge for a good couple days to get the spiked Energon out of your systems.  You’ve got a good medical staff and they can handle things just fine for a couple of days.”

            Despite some weak protests, Hot Spot hauled First Aid up and tossed the medic over his shoulder, locking the datapad into the safe.  Then he took the dazed medic into the large berthroom that belonged to all the Protectobots.   Streetwise, Groove and Blades were already in recharge, curled up against each other, sharing the large berth.  Hot Spot laid First Aid against Groove’s back and then slid underneath the blankets to pin the sleepy medic into the berth between all the Protectobots’ bodies.

            After a proper recharge cycle, all the others woke up and snuggled against First Aid happily.  Hot Spot told them to go do their normal daily duties, he was going to remain here and make sure First Aid _stayed_ in recharge for the rest of the day.  He sent a glyph message to Rodimus Prime saying that First Aid overworked himself and to just let the general medical staff handle things.

            The young Prime told Hot Spot to make sure First Aid got _proper rest_.  If anything, Rodimus had been lectured numerous times _by Galvatron_ to take better care of himself—so, he was well-aware of how badly someone could hurt themselves by going without proper fueling and recharge.

            First Aid was pretty loopy the first time he woke up, nestled against Hot Spot’s larger and warmer frame—he was probably out of it from the energy spikers that he’d put in his premium-grade.  The young medic gave a scattered lecture to Hot Spot about making sure that apples and lychees got mixed into the medical grade today—because fruits were a good source of vitamins and minerals.  Then he gave a little singing, rhyming thing that listed all the trace elements inside of a Cybertronian’s fuel tank and processor systems.

            Right before he crashed offline again.

            The second time First Aid came online, he looked around wildly and asked where the ice cream truck was, because he _really_ wanted a pineapple sundae with iron shavings on top.   He _knew_ it was there, because it was playing that stupid little chime that Jazz was always humming in the Ark, when he wanted to piss people off.

            But he didn’t immediately go offline again, he kind of just slipped offline, mumbling about how his sundae was going to melt unless they went to Antarctica so he could eat it.

            When he came back online early in the evening, the other three Protectobots had come back from their daily work duties and got busy preparing mid-grade Energon and snacks for tonight’s meal and a night in for the team.   First Aid sat up on the bed, dazed and holding his head in his hands to try and remember when the last time he had a _normal_ fueling and recharge was.

            “Maybe this next time you’ll remember to act like a normal Autobot,” Hot Spot chuckled, setting a canister of mid-grade in front of the medic, as he joined them at the table, along with a plate of oil-fried rust shavings and cuts from an iron loaf.

            “Ugh, I’m **_so sorry_**.  Every single time I get so obsessed, I turn _stupid_ ,” Frist Aid groaned.  “Sorry I made you put up with me _again_ , Hot Spot………..guys,” he said, softly, looking around the table at all of them.

            “Hey, that’s what we’re all here for,” Blades said, grinning over at First Aid.   “You put up with all of our little silly flaws, too.”

            “None of us knew what to expect the first time we all bonded together as Defensor—we could’ve chosen to pull away from each other, or to utilize everything we felt together,” Streetwise added.

            “Choosing to love and care for each other has made us one of the best of the gestalt teams,” Groove chuckled, eating as he talked.

            “That’s _definitely_ true.   And I really love being a part of _this_ team and being loved by all you guys…………and I love you all, too,” First Aid said, then turned his attention to the first proper fueling and meal he’s had in a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With some of this dialogue and stuff here, I wanted to show that First Aid spent a lot of time on Earth--so some of his loopiness is peppered with Earth things. XD
> 
> I also wanted to show something I mentioned in a previous story, about bonds between the gestalt teams.


	7. Daniel Witwicky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel's first babysitting job.............his Autobot big brother's little sparkling, Novablaze!

_Chapter Seven: **Daniel Witwicky**_

 

            “I can see the headlines now, Magnus………… _Autobot Leader cancels important meeting of world leaders because he **can’t** find a babysitter_!”  Rodimus Prime groaned, complaining over the vid-screen to Ultra Magnus on Cybertron.

            “Rodimus, you’ve got a whole city of Autobots on Earth there—what do you mean you _can’t_ find anyone to watch Novablaze for half of a day while you go and attend those meetings?”  Ultra Magnus chided.

            “Everyone’s **_busy_** ……..or so they say.  I think some of them were put off by recent tantrums,” Rodimus sighed.   “And I _can’t_ just take him with me—no matter _how adorable_ he is.   I mean, look at this little guy, Magnus!   _He’s so cute!_    How could you **_not_** want to watch him for a few hours?”  The young Prime complained, rocking on his pedes as his one-year-old sparkling dozed with his head on the flame-colored mech’s shoulder.

            “ ** _I_** can babysit, big bro!”  Daniel called, entering the communications room as he’d heard the conversation while he walked past.   “Jessie told me she’s busy today, so we can’t go out tonight—I have no other plans for my day.   Gimme a few bucks and _I’ll_ watch Novablaze for you!”  The human teenager said with a big grin. 

            Daniel was going to be fifteen next week.  He’d _just_ started going out with a girl from his high school, Jessica.   Most of his friends had first jobs, so he didn’t have many people to spend time with anymore and spent most of his free time wandering around Metroplex, texting friends on his smartphone.    Daniel, himself, _couldn’t get a job_ , because his parents told him “ ** _no_** ”—mainly because on all school breaks, Daniel went to Athenia base to spend time with the whole family.

            “ _Oh Primus!_    You’re _sure_ , Danny?  It _won’t_ be any trouble for you?”  Rodimus gasped, desperately.

            “Well, I’m not tall enough to do things like _that_ ……….” the teenager said, pointing to Rodimus’ shoulder.  Rodimus nodded with understanding.  “But I can make sure he gets his fuel and try to get him down for a nap-cycle……….I can play with him and you said he likes that educational show, _‘Fuzzy Fiesta’_ right?   I watched that when I was growing up, you know!”

            “It’s been around _that long_?”  Rodimus gasped.

            “Sad, but true,” Daniel laughed warmly.  “Besides……..how many times did you babysit me when I was a little tyke?  It’s only fair……..right, big bro?”  He asked, smiling up at Rodimus Prime.

            “I totally owe you for this, Danny……..thank you so much!  Let me get everything ready and I’ll meet you in the entertainment lounge in about fifteen minutes!”   Rodimus gushed, relieved he finally found someone to watch over Novablaze while he went to an important meeting.

            So, in fifteen minutes Daniel walked into the entertainment lounge, whistling as he typed a message to his girlfriend that he had a job babysitting for his “ _big brother_ ” today.

 

**U hv a BB?  :o**

**My Autobot BB.  Rodimus Prime.  :)**

**O!  Saw on newsfeed!   Only TF to have bby!!   :D**

**Galvatron’s the baby-daddy.  XD**

**Is bby scary or cute?!  @_@**

**Both.  ;P**

 

**Name?  :)**

**Novablaze.  Everyone calls him Nova.  :)**

**Aw.  Good luck, D!   Have fun!  :D**

**U-2.  @family night, I mean.  XD**

**Yep!   XD**

 

            “You and that phone,” Rodimus laughed.   “Okay.  On the low table I put his Energon cups—Nova _usually_ wants one every two hours or so.  Nap-cycle should be in about three hours, try to get him to lay down _at least_ , even if he doesn’t recharge—so, there’s a sleep mat in the corner.  I brought out the blocks and a ball that you two can play toss with, though he’ll likely just want to roll it around.   You know how to work the t.v.—so, that should be it.”

            “Sounds simple enough,” Daniel chuckled, slipping his smartphone into his back pocket.

            “ _If_ he tantrums………….just make sure he _doesn’t_ hurt himself.   I know you’re not really strong enough to wrestle him, since he’s like your size nearly,” Rodimus began, starting to get worried again.

            “Rodimus, I _know_ self-defense—do you think my dad would let me go anywhere by myself without learning it?  I can probably get a secure hold on the kid if he throws a fit,” the teenage boy laughed.  “His armour’s solid now, right?  I shouldn’t leave any dents if I have to pin his shoulders or something.”

            “Yeah.   It’s solid enough.  First Aid says it’ll soften and expand in another year or so, but he shouldn’t have a growth spurt until then,” the young Prime explained.

            “Then _go to your meeting_.  It’ll be fine, here,” Daniel said, shooing Rodimus away with his hands.

            It still took **_another ten minutes_** to get Rodimus Prime to actually leave the room and head for the exit of Metroplex, so he could drive to his meeting.

            “Hi Nova……..do you remember me?   Your carrier’s human little bro……..Daniel?”  The teenager asked, squatting down on the floor where Novablaze was sitting, holding some blocks.

            The sparkling had been fully absorbed watching his carrier and the human talk and then his optics followed Rodimus Prime out of the room with a little bit of puzzlement.  Until Novablaze realized that it was like those other times his carrier left the room for a while and someone else watched over him.   So, then he turned to the blocks and started gathering them around him.   Now his optics looked at Daniel, appraisingly and he gave a little chirrup of greeting with a little grin on his faceplate.

            “ _D’awww!_ ”  Daniel gushed, reaching back for his phone and taking a photo of the happy sparkling.

            Novablaze’s optics focused on the smartphone with awe and he made little grabby hands towards it.  Daniel laughed and scooted over to sit next to the sparkling, showing him the photo he just took on the phone.   The newmech looked at his picture intently and then looked at Daniel, lifting a servo and pointing to his own face.

            “That’s right.  That’s _you_ ,” Daniel said, reaching over and rubbing Novablaze’s helm softly.  Then Daniel lifted the phone and focused it on them both, as he leaned his head lightly against the sparkling’s helm.  “Look up at the phone and smile, Nova.”

            The sparkling was a little puzzled and saw Daniel’s brown eyes on the phone he was holding up and looked at it—he could see a tiny moving picture on the screen and lifted servos to make grabby hands at it.   He heard the little clicks as photos were snapped and reached towards the phone as Daniel brought it back and showed the sparkling the series of pictures he took of them.   Novablaze chirped and purred at the new thing he’s learned today.

            “Oh!   I’ve got this fun phone game………lemme see if it’s on my tablet, too!”  Daniel said, getting up quickly and rifling in his backpack.

            Novablaze squeaked curiously, gazing after Daniel—but he knew he wasn’t very quick on his pedes, so he’d never be able to get up and pursue the teenage boy.

            “Here!   Let’s sit up on the couch…….” Daniel chuckled, hopping onto the stepstool next to the massive lounger in front of the television screen.  He leaned down and reached for Novablaze’s arms as the sparkling wobbled on unsteady pedes after him.   “You’re not as heavy as I thought you might be…..I wonder if it’s because you’ve got a flight frame?”   The teenager said, softly, as Novablaze curled up next to him in the comfy cushions, purring happily.

            The human teenager brought out his tablet and turned it on, he flipped through icon folders and found the game he wanted to show the sparkling.   “This is called _‘Block Buster’_ —you just touch groups of colors to create special things that will help you destroy even more blocks.   The more blocks you destroy in a fewer amount of moves, the better the special bonuses you’ll get on the next level.  My girlfriend downloaded this and got me addicted to it,” he laughed softly.

            Novablaze was awed by the colors on the screen, they were bright…………and square, like his blocks, but they _didn’t_ have animal pictures on them.  They had simple icons like moons and leaves and suns.

            “Here, touch this group of **_red_** blocks,” Daniel said, pointing to a section on the screen.

            The sparkling looked at Daniel and then raised a servo to point at the same part of the screen that the teenager was pointing at.   Daniel gently pressed Novablaze’s finger onto the screen over the red group of blocks, which turned into a little sphere of fire on the screen.   The sparkling chirruped in surprise.   Daniel realized that Novablaze wouldn’t understand the number at the top left was a limited amount of moves, or choices—but Daniel could keep restarting if the game ended, they were just replaying the old levels that the teenager had long since cleared.

            “Touch that little sphere,” Daniel said, grinning down at the sparkling.

            Novablaze pushed his finger down onto the red sphere and a little digital effect of a flame eliminated a huge mass of many color blocks.

            “ ** _Cari!_** ”  Novablaze squealed.

            Novablaze knew _words_?   _Cari_?  What could……..oh!   Short for “ _carrier_ ”!   He recognized a stylized flame as what was on Rodimus Prime’s chest.   Daniel was glad he was recording this as a video, because Rodimus would be in awe when he saw what his sparkling knew……..and the likelihood that this was his _first word._    Daniel grinned, his Autobot big brother would be **_ecstatic_** when he got back to Metroplex and find out his little sparkling had spoken a single, precious word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally not a person who knows much "textspeak" (I'm way too old!!!)...........I just did my best. XD


	8. Cyclonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyclonus has had enough of their avoidance. He intends to do something about it.

_Chapter Eight: **Cyclonus**_

 

            Cyclonus had been rage-fragged by Galvatron before, it isn’t as if _this_ were the first time—and every single time it had been _because_ of that _damned Autobot Prime_.   Every single time Rodimus Prime had upset Galvatron in any way…….Cyclonus was shoved into a wall or a berth and had the consciousness fragged out of him while Galvatron swore and snarled and raged until **_he_** was satisfied.

            Well, it wasn’t as if _Cyclonus_ wasn’t satisfied either, but he’d really prefer _not_ to be his lord’s ventilation target.   He’d _rather_ have the chance to enjoy it and to pleasure his Emperor.

            However, he thought that since the young Prime was now permanently on Chaar……………Cyclonus _truly thought_ he wouldn’t have to deal with Galvatron’s rage-fragging again.  Then again, the flame-colored mech kept insisting he was “ _no longer a Prime_ ”.  He was a bit shorter than he had been………and the faceplating now had fewer ridges in it—he looked like a younger mech, if that were actually possible.

            “My lord……..have you not had the Prime to your berth since you brought him back to Chaar?”  Cyclonus asked, very softly, as he could tell Galvatron was still lying awake.

            “It is _not_ your business, Cyclonus………but your words are the truth,” Galvatron snarled, his vocalizer quiet in tone.   “I wished to give him time to adjust, but now he has me worried about _harming him_ , because he is not as physically strong as he was before.”

            “He is afraid of your great power, my lord?”  Cyclonus asked, curiously.   “But does he not know how _gentle_ your touch can be?  You are _always_ very capable of using the right strength to arouse and not to harm……….I doubt you would be able to hurt him, my lord, you have great skill in the berth.”

            Galvatron gave a snort and tilted his head towards his Second-in-Command with a feral grin.  “Your vocalizer always sweetens your words beyond comparison, my dear Cyclonus.   I _apologize_ for taking my frustrations out on you, your bravery in always accepting my rage assures that you shall forever have a place at my side,” the Decepticon Leader responded.

            “As my Emperor commands,” Cyclonus said, humbly.   He rested a bit longer at Galavtron’s side, until he felt the powerful mech fall into recharge.   Then the purple-and-grey lieutenant rose from the berth and swept a servo along the headboard-side light to turn it off before leaving the room and going to get cleaned up at his own personal washrack.

            Then Cyclonus flew off to the embassy building, which was closer to the main sets of habitation blocks than it was to the palace.   The young, flame-colored mech was actually standing around in the lobby area, speaking with some of the mechs he’d acquired as staff…………Cyclonus believed the blue-and-white Autobot was named “ _Brainstorm_ ” and the brown-and-purple Decepticon was called “ _Carnivac_ ”.   Hot Rod had the youngling that belonged to Galvatron in his arms.

            “ _’Clonus_!”  Novablaze squeaked, waving ecstatically at the Decepticon’s Second-in-Command over his carrier’s shoulder.

            Cyclonus could not hate the little one—after all, despite the kind personality Novablaze seemed to have, he could see parts of his Emperor in the youngling.

            “Good evening, little one,” Cyclonus greeted.  “Prime, we must speak……you and I.  _Now_.”

            Hot Rod tilted his head up at Cyclonus, puzzled by the tired tone in the Second-in-Command’s voice.   “Brainstorm…….would you mind taking Nova for a little bit?   I think this is _very_ important,” the flame-colored mech asked, glancing at the young Autobot scientist.

            “Sure.  Good luck!”  Brainstorm laughed, taking Novablaze from his carrier’s arms.

            Hot Rod led Cyclonus down to his main office in the building, motioned for the Decepticon to take a seat (which he didn’t)…….so the flame-colored mech sighed and leaned against the edge of his desk, rather than sitting down.

            “Is Galvatron okay?   He……….. _I dunno_ ……….it feels like he’s **_avoiding_** me,” Hot Rod said, softly.  

            “ _Gah!_    Why do you two not talk or frag?!   I am _tired_ of being his frustration target……I prefer fragging with my Emperor when he is in a _good mood_!”   Cyclonus growled in frustration.

            “So…….he really **_is_** avoiding me?   I _knew_ it.  He really _doesn’t_ want me anymore,” Hot Rod whispered.   “He probably just still had the memories of _‘his Prime’_ in his head at the momemt and couldn’t see **_stupid_** little Hot Rod standing in front of him.”  The flame-colored mech walked to the window and stared out at Chaar—from this window, he could see one of the habitation blocks he’d helped build for the Decepticons.  “Now what do I do?”  He sighed.

            “Do you not still have your _desires_?!   Present to him how eager you are to be with your Emperor!   I am tired of the fact that neither of you can manage to be in the same room together anymore, when I used to be angry you were in the same room too often!”  Cyclonus snarled.

            Hot Rod spun on a pede to face the Decepticon’s Second-in-Command.   He looked ready to cry……….and Cyclonus hadn’t meant for _that_ to happen.  Because Galvatron had said how emotionally fragile the young Prime always was.

            “He will _always_ have you, Cyclonus………. _you_ won’t change.  Not unless Unicron comes back from the dead and messes with your body again.   He can still chase you, slam you into the wall so hard it makes your array ache with wanting him…………and I am just _small Hot Rod_.   A dent I could easily cherish as Rodimus Prime would probably crush my fuel tank now.   I _can’t_ ……give him what he always wanted anymore……..that perfect rival,” Hot Rod said softly, sadness making his vocalizer cut in-and-out with static.

            Cyclonus stomped over to Hot Rod and grabbed him by the collar fairing, hauling him off the ground about a foot.   “ _This_ is what I wish for you to stop.  _This self-pity_.   Lord Galvatron chose you and do you doubt he can control his strength to take you as you are now?”  The Second-in-Command growled softly.

            “ _Yeah._   Yeah, I do!”  Hot Rod cried, ache and want within him.   “I **_love_** him!   _But_ ……!”

            “But _nothing_ , Prime!   You have a place in his Spark that no other holds, now stop holding back when you are before him!   If Lord Galvatron _will not_ come to you……….then _you must_ go to him!”  Cyclonus snapped back.

            “ _Can I_?”  Hot Rod asked, softly.   “Will you let me?”  He murmured.

            “It has never been a matter of what **_I_** ever wanted.   It is always what _Lord Galvatron_ desires,” the Second-in-Command sighed, a soft huff of annoyance in his vocalizer.   “You _know_ this.”

            “Thanks, Cyclonus!   I _really_ needed to hear it from someone like you,” Hot Rod said, softly, hugging the very surprised Decepticon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to even add the "implied Galvatron/Cyclonus" tag here, because I'd have to say "implied" for everyone when it comes to Galvatron. XD


	9. Raj-ur-Malekk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quintesson Biologist meets with a few other Quintessons for a discussion and winds up purchasing something very interesting.

_Chapter Nine: **Raj-ur-Malekk**_

 

            As secretive as the Quintessons had always been, there were a few things that those who’d encountered them often enough realized:

 

  * There were _several_ different types……from a simple mostly-organic form to armoured organic forms.
  * They were motivated by _greed and money_ ……..and would plot as many underhanded schemes as they could in order to make a profit.
  * They _hated_ the Transformers. **_All of them_**.  Autobots, Decepticons…….unaffiliated—it didn’t matter.   (Though most non-Cybertronians in the universe had no idea why the Quintessons hated the Transformers species so much!)
  * Despite naming numerous base-worlds with the name of “ _Quintessa_ ”, none of these worlds they ever actually called “ _home_ ”—most Quintessons tended to travel in great space-faring vessels, rather than be tied to a particular planet.
  * Regardless of form, for the most part, _all Quintessons_ had 5 faces, denoted by specifically shaped masks—though the masks could differ in physical look between the different types of the species. The five masks were:  _Wrath, Death, Wisdom, War_ and _Judgement_.   Though some of the older of the species called “ _Wrath_ ” by “ ** _Rage_** ” and “ _Wisdom_ ” by “ ** _Rationality_** ”.  Some very old Quintessons called their _Mask of Judgement_ by the name of “ ** _Mask of Guidance_** ”……and the _Mask of War_ was once known as the “ ** _Mask of Conquest_** ”.
  * While the universe _didn’t_ know it, at large (reference bullet point #3 here), _the Transformers species knew that the Quintessons were their creators_ , mainly because the young Rodimus Prime had sought the answers within the Matrix of Leadership. Fact in point—the Sharkticons were _derived_ from their plans of their two slave lines, which had become the ancestors of the Autobots and Decepticons……..they simply gave the Sharkticons _no free will_    And much like their original slave lines, there are two types of Sharkticons—the mass produced, lack-of-intelligence, “ _rounded_ ” form that does all everyday work and a type with more limited intelligence that served as elite guards for all Quintessons.
  * Once they’d spread throughout the universe—the Quintessons _rarely ever_ got together and met with other groups of their species for any reason whatsoever.



 

…….. _and that brings us to **today**_.

            A group of Quintessons that had been primarily situated on _Quintessa #187_ had tried to encounter the Transformers, both Autobots and Decepticons……….and had screwed up pretty badly.   They could have cared less, until a flame-colored mech and an oldmech had defied them by sheer chance and circumstance……..upon trying to seek revenge for this, they’d retaliated by kidnapping a group from Cybertron during an event of hosted peace games with other aliens in the galaxy.   Then, once more, that flame-colored mech screwed with them again and forced them to blow up Quintessa #187.

            Rather than backing down, _this group_ of Quintessons had tried to manipulate Galvatron and the Decepticons into doing something for them back on Cybertron.   These Quintessons had almost won, except for the human ally—who had managed to reverse the remote shutdown process and this group was forced into defeat again.  But……….they did **_not_** leave Cybertron empty-handed.

            And now they were about to hold a small conference with another, much older, Quintesson who had an encounter with the flame-colored Autobot that they had.

            “I have _no time_ for such ridiculous meetings,” Raj-ur-Malekk sighed, drolly, as he entered the conference room that the low-intelligence Sharkticon guards escorted him to.   “However, you said you had something _interesting_ to show me about our wayward slave brands.”

            “It isn’t as if we are happy to spend time with uppity old fossils such as you,” one of the four younger Quintessons snapped back.   “Only two Masks to your name……. _so shameful_!”

            Raj-ur-Malekk _really disliked_ the younger Quintessons—shunning and stunting their own bodies, becoming lazy and dependent upon their Sharkticon slaves.   Their tentacles had no real ability to lift, use or manipulate objects anymore.  He felt they had no real motivation………so it was probably just as well that they had no names as well—there was no sense in wasting a good name on a Quintesson that was simply a waste of space in the universe, even **_if_** they all had all five of their Masks.

            “I suppose I may as well share this information with you,” the Quintesson Biologist chuckled.  “It seems that somehow the young Autobot Leader designated as _‘Rodimus Prime’_ has managed to utilize the original forge-and-creation protocols, along with the Decepticon Leader—who is designated as…….”

            “ ** _Galvatron_** ,” the four of them all said at one time.   All four of them were wearing their Masks of Wisdom.

            “You have encountered him as well, it seems,” Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled.   “I can only postulate that carrying the _Heritage Object_ the consumer brand claimed had reformatted this _Rodimus Prime_ to enable him to carry.   While I cannot tie down any specific reasons, I have heard that Galvatron was reformatted by the _scourge of worlds_ —it is possible that Unicron’s knowledge and processing of worlds teeming with progeny-producing species would allow him to reformat Galvatron with said the forge-and-creation protocols.”

            “As we cannot make a profit on such a thing anymore—this really holds _no useful information_ for us,” one other of the younger Quintessons responded, the tone of their five-layered voice sounding like a verbal shrug.

            “All of you brats really have become **_lazy_**!”  Raj-ur-Malekk snarled, his Mask of Rage snapping into place and he began to advance on the group of younger Quintessons with fury.

            Rawjaw grunted and growled softly at his master and carefully held him back by the shoulders.   After a few moments of raging and swearing in Ancient Cybertronian, Raj-ur-Malekk finally settled back down and his Mask of Rationality clicked back into place.

            “To be honest, we only called you here, because you have interest in certain objects.  We’ve acquired a few objects from Cybertron a couple years back and would like to ask if you would be willing to _purchase_ them from us,” one of the other younger Quintessons said, motioning to the platforms full of objects along the far wall.   “We are sorely in need of funds for our _next project_ and know you are quite wealthy of any of the groups of our species.”

            “ _Tch_.  You **_only_** called upon me for my money,” Raj-ur-Malekk snarled, almost letting his Mask of Rage take over again.   To stop himself from surrendering to his rage again, he walked over to the far wall and the display platforms.   Rawjaw walked directly behind his master to protect him—from himself, mostly.

            _Junk._    Most of this was **_utter junk_**.  Why had these lazy brats only grabbed junk from Cybertron?   Then he laughed when he saw the remnants of the “ _kill-switch_ ”………so that was how they got to Cybertron and even managed to take things.   There was _no way_ he was paying anything for the handle of a clearly broken device now.   Then he found _two things_ that drew his attention.   The first was a sphere………which looked bland and not really noteworthy at all.   Except it was actually an _Energon converter core_ —it could convert any elements into Energon.

            “ ** _This_**.   I’ll give you _300,000 intergalactic credits_ for it,” the biologist chuckled.   It was probably really only worth half that amount, but he could find great use for it and the poor brats seemed really desperate for money.   He handed the sphere to Rawjaw, to place in his carrying pack.

            The four younger Quintessons chortled, staring at their datapad screens as the 300,000IC was instantly deposited into their account.

            The _other_.   Well, he’d need to get some more assistance to have it hauled to his ship.   The fact that it was a statue of some Transformer _wasn’t_ what was interesting about it.   There was a _bio-energy_ …… ** _a Spark-signature_** ……infused in this statue.   Raj-ur-Malekk had to admit, he was of great curiosity to see why this statue of a mech named “ _Starscream_ ” had mere essences of life permeating it.

            “ _This_ as well.  I will give you _500,000 intergalactic credits_ for **_this one_** and I’ll be summoning my own crew for transporting it to my ship,” Raj-ur-Malekk said, firmly.   It was worth nowhere near that amount, but for the curiosity of seeing why this statue was infused with a Spark-signature……it may be worth it _to him_.   “That is **_all_** I want.  And that is all the money you will get from me, you brats.”

            The younger Quintessons were _ecstatic_ ……….and utterly rude, by not even thanking him—just basically telling him he knew the way out.   The biologist wondered if he should actually only have charged them the legitimate amount for those two objects?

_‘ **Tch**.  They will squander those credits far faster than they will make any profits off of them with whatever in the Pit they plan to do with them,’_ the Quintesson Biologist thought to himself as he ensured that the statue was safely stored within his ship.   _‘But this………..I wonder why this statue has life within it?   And what can I do with it?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are direct lead-ins to a new long form 'fic. :)


	10. Hot Rod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod and Galvatron finally talk things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was meant to be bookended by the past (a chapter with Galvatron from before the last story in the previous series) and the present (a new chapter with Hot Rod, which leads into a new set of full-size stories)--to show the potential future. Their relationship needs to be hammered out so that they know where they stand with one another now...........there's only one real solution for that!

_Chapter Ten: **Hot Rod**_

 

            The message left to Galvatron, which had popped up on his HUD that morning when he awoke, was cryptic—and very _unlike the sender_.  His young Prime.   But then…………he had _hardly spoken_ to Hot Rod since he brought the younger mech back to Chaar with him.   Their few interactions these past several months had been awkward and hesitant………. _usually_ ending with Galavtron growling and stomping off at the lack of productivity—then grabbing someone and rage-fragging them.

            It had _never_ been so hard to speak to his Prime as it was now.  Was it _truly_ like Hot Rod said?   Was Galvatron disappointed deep within himself, that he _no longer_ had Rodimus Prime to fight with?   _His irreplaceable rival?_    The Leader of the Decepticons _hated_ that he could not understand his own thoughts and desires anymore—not when it came to the young Prime.   Rodimus Prime…………now back in his original frame as Hot Rod………….he held a place in Galavtron’s Spark that _no other held_.   Even when he thought about what the other Decepticons meant to him, even his _closest_ soldiers like Cyclonus—his Prime was in a _very special place_ compared to all of them.  And, by periphery, so was Novablaze.

            He _hated_ confusion and not knowing the answers to something, he _hated_ that it would bother him so much.   So, Galvatron felt that perhaps answering Hot Rod’s cryptic message would give him some kind of solution to his muddled thoughts and emotions.

            “Well, my Prime………..you’ve asked me to this barren area beyond the habitation blocks.  Now do you care to tell me _why_?”  Galvatron snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

            Hot Rod gazed at Galvatron with such longing……….the powerful mech he allowed to claim him—and that he came to fall in love with.  It was time to find out……..if he still meant anything to Galvatron, right now.   Four…………climbing up towards five years ago now………….he and Galvatron were stranded in a desert together.   He _surrendered_ to the powerful Decepticon in the hopes that he would be destroyed in the end, but because he lived—instead he clung to the desire that Galavtron had ignited in him.   And when he chose to Spark-bond to Galvatron………he _knew_ it was love and not just lust—though there was a whole lot of lust involved, too!

            “ ** _Chase me_** , my lord……….” Hot Rod said, firmly, turning and transforming into his alt mode—the sleek little race car.   Tires squealed as he peeled out in a cloud of dust.

            “ _What the frag_ ….?”  Galvatron snarled, not expecting this turn of events whatsoever.

            Was he _serious_?   A **_chase_**?  Just like in days previous, when he was Rodimus Prime?

            Galvatron clenched his denta and took to the air, to give chase.  He followed the trail of dust and the hard revving of a race engine, shifting up and down for the chase and race.   Should he fire?   _Would he_ ……..?

            “This **_isn’t_** what I was expecting!”  Hot Rod called, his voice loud as he swerved around a bank of rocks and raced right in Galvatron’s direction.   “My beloved Emperor _hesitates_!  **_Why?_**    Am I no longer _worthy_ of you?!”  Hot Rod cried, anxiety filling him.

            “That is **_not_** ……….!”  Galvatron shot back, thrusters reversing and bringing him to a halt.

            Hot Rod shot past him and swerved in a circular pattern, making “ _donuts_ ” in the dusty surface of Chaar.   _The damn little race car was **taunting** him_.   Well then, if the stupid little Prime wanted a chase and a challenge—then fine, Galvatron would _accept_ that challenge!   He raised his nova cannon and fired a warning shot that Hot Rod completely swerved out of the way of.

            The little Prime was _faster_.

            He was _more agile_ than before!

            Hot Rod was a _new challenge_ to Galvatron………..and he would _always_ conquer what he challenged!

            “Bring it on, my Prime!” Galvatron roared, excitement filling the tone in his vocalizer.

            “That’s more like it, my lord!”  Hot Rod laughed, peeling out again.

            Hot Rod raced across the barren, dusty surface……..every so often he’d swirl in a fish-tail of epic proportions— _just_ to taunt Galvatron into making a shot.   A plasma blast which would always miss, because the flame-emblazoned race car would swerve agilely out of the way.   The chase………and the race……..was firing them both up.   _Just like the old days_ , when the Emperor and the Prime would chase and fight—and end up in the berth afterwards.

            Hot Rod laughed and taunted—all _fire_ and _beauty_.   Galvatron roared with frustration when he _could not_ catch his agile young Prime so easily, as he could _before_.   It aroused them both and heightened their longing for one another.

            Hot Rod spun and swerved around another rock and changed into his primary mode as he swung around it, to launch himself at Galvatron—the young flame-colored mech may have been smaller and lighter, but the speed and the momentum gave him the power to knock the heavily armoured Decepticon to the ground.  Hot Rod sprawled out on top of the grey-and-purple mech.

            “ _I win_ , my lord,” the former Prime purred softly leaning forwards on top of Galvatron to kiss the mech he loved so much.

            “I _allowed you_ to win, my Prime,” Galvatron grunted.   He was not at all unhappy with this particular result of the chase.   They may not have fought, but it certainly revved him up—just like before.   “So, you have sacrificed bulk for speed—it is not an unacceptable solution to your situation.”

            “Ah, my grumpy Emperor—you just _don’t_ like losing,” Hot Rod chuckled.  “I can make it up to you— _in the berth_.”

            “I _always_ win in the berth,” Galvatron chuckled, fondly.

            “I _can’t_ dispute that,” Hot Rod laughed, snuggling on Galvatron’s chest and listening to the powerful Spark spin within it.   “My frame may have changed, but my Spark and personality are the same, my Emperor.   We can _still_ enjoy the chase………and maybe _sometimes_ even the fight.  As long as you don’t exercise all your great strength on my chest or my head—damage that I get to my limbs can be repaired easily.”

            “Cyclonus tells me I instinctively know what strength to use given a situation—I will adapt to what I need when I am with you,” Galvatron responded easily.  “Can we now stop avoiding one another— _I do not like it_ and it makes me agitated to hold back and not claim what _belongs_ to me.”

            “Trust me………… ** _I_** was upset, too.  I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” the flame-colored mech whispered, rubbing a servo lightly over the Decepticon brand on Galavtron’s chest.

            “No more misunderstandings?” Galvatron said, placing a servo on Hot Rod’s back, right in the center of the sunbright yellow spoiler.

            “Well, I’ll do my best,” the former young Prime chuckled.   “Can I ask for something from you right now?”  He asked, sitting up and straddling the Decepticon Leader’s hips.

            “Not _demand_?  Have I not…………..?”  Galvatron growled sharply.

            “No, **_not this_** , Galvatron.  **_This_** is something one must ask for—this is _not_ something you demand,” Hot Rod said, firmly.  “Spark-bond with me………..merge with me _as I am now_.  Please, my lord?”  He asked, reaching up and opening his chestplate.

            Galvatron saw the interior—which looked so much the same, except a little more compact than before………….but now **_it_** was absent—the Matrix of Leadership.  It no longer blocked his young Prime’s spark-chamber—that was in full and glorious view.  The iris on the spark-casing was wide open, inviting and eager……….and that blue-white glow was the same as it had ever been.   No matter how much his precious Prime had changed physically—that piece of him was ever the same, holding the secrets and treasures which belonged to Galvatron and only to him.

            Galvatron opened his chestplating and let Hot Rod lean forwards so their Sparks hovered millimeters beside each other.  Wispy tendrils of light flared from their Sparks—meeting and twining eagerly with each other.    They both shuttered their optics and went deep within one another.

 

 

**_This_ ** _time, it was Hot Rod who travelled into the depths of Galvatron’s Spark. **He** was aware of everything, because this was the Spark of the mech he loved.  **Nothing** surprised him about it…..not like how surprised Galvatron had been when they did this before and the Decepticon came into his Spark.  **The taste-feel of the environment was very Galvatron.**_

_Clouds drifted on the periphery of Hot Rod’s emotion-senses.   He **knew** what they were.  They were **the others** that shared a Spark-bond with Galvatron.  **Cyclonus** , of course, was the largest of the clouds.  **Scourge** and the **Sweeps** ………..oh, that one was **Soundwave** ……….. **Starscream** , too?.............. **Optimus Prime** , as well.   Ah—the ones that **Megatron** had Spark-bonded with then.  It didn’t surprise Hot Rod to know that Optimus and Megatron had Spark-bonded, they knew each other long ago, before either were really heavily involved in the war._

_If Optimus Prime knew that Galvatron had once been Megatron……….how would he feel?   Would he be **jealous** of Hot Rod?_

_Oh, but where was **his cloud**?   Surely **he** had a cloud here in this soul-environment!  Hot Rod began looking around, trying to find a cloud that he recognized as his Spark-bond with Galvatron._

_“As always, you take your own sweet time, even when **you** are the one who asks—why are you looking around aimlessly?”  Galvatron snapped, a shimmer-form standing not far away……….but so very far away………from Hot Rod’s shimmer-form._

_“ **Hey**.  Where’s **mine**?”  Hot Rod asked.  He pointed at the clouds and was upset that his anxiety was creeping into his touch-voice._

_“Where is **your what**?  **Those clouds?**    They are **unimportant** ,” Galvatron snapped.   _

_“Primus, **don’t** say that—I know how important Cyclonus is to you!”  Hot Rod sighed, stomping towards his lover’s shimmer-form._

_“Oh, is **that** what they are?   They have simply been here since before I Spark-bonded to Cyclonus and the others, I assumed they were **litter** in my Spark,” Galvatron sighed, glancing over-and-up at them, a strange look in his optics._

_“That’s because you’ve Spark-bonded before…………with the others, from when you were Megatron,” Hot Rod sighed, patting his lover’s shoulder lightly.   “Where’s **mine**?  I **can’t** find mine!”   He said, desperately—wondering if he meant nothing to Galvatron after all._

_“I do not remember them.  I am **only Galvatron** ,” he sighed, shrugging.   “My **treasures** are kept in a **special place** , little Prime.”_

_Hot Rod ran to follow his lover’s shimmer-form.   They seemed to go a long distance and not even moving at all.   He looked up to see the red sun in the sky-vacuum. **Ah** , Galvatron’s Spark.  A fierce supernova of life energy._

_Then he saw the two small lights hovering around the powerful red sun………….a small blue-white star and a tiny lavender star.  Hot Rod began to cry…………the slivers of his and Novablaze’s Sparks that belonged to Galvatron—in a permanent orbit around the Spark of the one who was the center of their universe.   Never far from the Spark of the mech that neither would really exist without—they were **not mere clouds** hovering in the Spark, they were **stars in orbit around a sun**._

_“ **Gah** , why do you cry?!”  Galvatron’s shimmer-form groaned, deeply._

_“It’s **beautiful** , Galvatron………..thank you for showing me **this**.  Thank you so much!”  Hot Rod sobbed, his shimmer-form clinging to the shimmer-form of the mech he loved.   Hot Rod pulled a sliver of blue-white light from inside of him and held it out to Galvatron.  “A **gift for you** , my Emperor.”_

_“Cherished, as always, my Prime,” Galvatron chuckled softly, giving another sliver of his own red sun to the young flame-colored mech._

_They pushed their slivers together, to cement a new bond between them.   Exploding with joy and pleasure as the Spark-slivers merging created a supernova of sensations and emotions through them both._

 

 

            “ _Mmmm_ ,” Galvatron purred happily as they both pulled out of the Spark-bonding.  “Always mine.”

            “Always yours, my lord,” Hot Rod chuckled warmly, closing both their chestplates and laying back down on his lover’s chest.  “An overload from Spark-bonding is something I’ll _never_ forget…….it just reverberates inside me for hours after the bonding.”

            “I am _still_ looking forward to a good night of fragging, my little Prime,” Galvatron said, patting Hot Rod’s spoiler fondly.

            “As if I would deny such a thing for _either of us_ ,” Hot Rod laughed, snuggling happily on the Decepticon Leader’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably going to be a couple of weeks before I post anything new for this series or for "Star Voyager"--as I mentioned in the "Star Voyager" chapter I just posted. I've caught up with the entirety of new works from my notebooks and so I need to find time and write something new. :)
> 
> It'll happen, just that I have a full-time job, too, so...............! *chuckle*
> 
> I'll try hard to get some new stuff out there before TFCon in October..............heck, I'll probably be freshly inspired when I go to see the one-night showing of "The Transformers: The Movie" on September 27th, I already got my tickets! XD


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